Adrenaline Rush
by HisSingertoo
Summary: A little one-shot that came to mind a couple days ago. I hope you like it. It was fun for me.


**Adrenaline Rush**

A Work of Fan Fiction

By

Patty Poston

**Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original plot is the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

He watched his wife from across the room. _She's still such a stunning beauty_, he thought to himself. _I'm such a lucky man._ He walked around the bed and across the room to stand behind her as she sat at her dressing table. He waited. She was just finishing with her lipstick. When she was done, he caressed her shoulders.

"I adore you," he said. He bent and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Thank you, my sweet," she purred in return. "Now, tell me, which earrings should I wear tonight?"

"You always choose the best, my dear. I'm so clumsy with my choices in such things."

She looked at him through her reflection, her eyes wide, a small smile playing on her lips and at her dimples. "They have all been gifts from you. How can you possibly say you are clumsy?"

He leaned down and kissed her cheek again. "I only mean I am clumsy when it comes to which baubles look best with this dress or that. They are all beautiful on you. You always choose the best to wear each time."

"Ah," she said, smiling widely. "Always the perfect gentleman." She knew she had a few wrinkles around the eyes, and her jaw was beginning to sag. It was only natural, given her age. After all, they had celebrated 30 years of marriage last spring. She put on the earrings—the diamond cluster with the pearl drop—that she had mentally selected hours ago when she had decided which dress to wear tonight, the jade green, complimenting her complexion. After all, they were going dancing later. They always went dancing after a delivery. The pearl drop always swung just right as they twirled and dipped. He was still very agile, even considering the paunch that had grown over the years. She had expected it. He looked just like his father had at that age.

But she always asked which ones to wear, in case he had a favorite, or a new pair in his pocket as was often the case. She didn't expect any gifts tonight. It was just after Christmas and still several more days until New Year's Eve.

She looked at his reflection again and saw he was already sweating, the light sheen on his forehead tattling on his look of composure.

"You look concerned, dear. Should I mirror your concern about this client?" she asked as she narrowed her eyes into a half-squint. She didn't worry often. She knew he was careful. But sometimes the clients were more dangerous than anyone would have liked. Tonight, it must be one of them.

"No, I'm not worried for me. I guess I'm more concerned about the reason for some of the paperwork. There is a child involved, and another man."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes, my thoughts exactly. But this client . . . well . . . I can't just ask as I do the others. But I will need to ask a couple more questions quite discreetly. I never know how this group will act."

"I thought you said there was only one young woman meeting you tonight." She never worried about the clients trying to seduce him. He always told her everything, generically, of course—no names or pictures. They often laughed together, at home, after the meetings, about how some of the women tried, or the men blustered. And, as always, how greedily they ate the expensive meals he bought, most with barely a "thank you" passing their lips.

"Yes, but she is part of this . . . family, recently married into them. I've told you about them before. I'm sure you remember the last time I had to deal with . . . Him. I'm sure she can be much the same. The child is hers and his brother's. The other man is not like them. She was calm enough during our first meeting, but . . ."

"But that was years ago. Perhaps he has finally died and this young woman will become the new family contact."

"No, she said He was on an extended trip, not deceased. And I'm pretty sure, considering as many years as I've dealt with Him, that he isn't going to die anytime soon, either."

"I don't believe that. Everyone dies. And he must be very old by now. You say this other man is not like them? How is he different?"

"I'm not sure exactly. He just doesn't look as . . . cold. I just pray the child will be in good hands." He pushed his sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch. "If you're ready, I'll go get the car."

"Yes, love. I'll meet you in front."

At the restaurant, she was shown to her usual table. It gave her a good view of people coming and going to the upstairs dining room he always reserved. The clients never knew she was there to observe. But, if the police ever needed a clear head to give an accurate description it would be hers. She had majored in art; portraits and human form were her specialties. She practiced regularly from his descriptions, just like the police sketch artists do. His discretion served him well, but one never knows when something could go wrong. They were always prepared.

They lived a good life, very comfortable, but never showy. The kind of life that spoke well of a small, successful, law practice. In a few years, when they retired, they would live very well as they traveled.

The meeting only lasted a few minutes. Food was never taken upstairs. She worried that something was terribly wrong. She wondered if they had been late; she had only seen the young beauty descend the stairs and leave. She remembered what he had said, about them looking cold, but the girl had looked too beautiful for words, and definitely very pale. Perhaps it was a new cosmetic look. She'd discuss it with her counter girl next week.

Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed the maître'd approach her table until he cleared his throat. "Madame, I have been asked to bring you upstairs."

She nodded, rose from her chair, and followed him. Another waiter followed with her drink on a tray. She entered the room to find her husband warming his hands by the fire.

"Darling, are you alright?" she asked, worry creases deeply etched in her forehead, as she hurried to his side.

He tenderly took her into his arms and hugged her warmly. "Yes, my love, I am fine. The business concluded quickly. I thought you might as well join me up here for dinner. Have you ordered yet?"

"Yes, I have, but just barely." The maître'd asked if she wanted to change her selection. She decided to keep the meal she had ordered, but the change of venue was more than welcome. It was a treat for her to dine in this room, while her husband conducted business dinners here all the time. He quickly gave his order to the waiting maître'd.

A few minutes later, they stood by the large windows with the water-side view. The lights from the other side of the lake shimmered on the small ripples of the water. There was a light breeze but no moon tonight with the winter cloud cover.

"Jason," she whispered, "I think this is one of the shortest meetings you have ever had."

"Yes, indeed," he whispered back. "This young woman is extremely focused. And, yes, I did ask, and she assured me, this was only a precaution to protect the child, in case anything happened to her and the father. She said they weren't expecting any problems, but I tend to think otherwise. I can only hope it all ends well. At least I did the best work I could."

"Well, your part is done now. Sit down, my love, and we'll dine together tonight."

He hugged her again and kissed her quickly. "Yes, let's eat. This group always gives me such an adrenaline rush. I'm starved!" He held her chair as she sat and then quickly took his own seat. He was just lifting his glass to touch hers in a toast when a light knock on the door announced the food had arrived.

The End


End file.
